Laughing Matter
by Amalgam000
Summary: Everybody needs a little laughter in their lives... even SSA Aaron Hotchner. A series of short moments showing the evolution of Hotch and Prentiss's relationship/friendship. Slight spoilers for 5x09 "100"


**Author's notes**: This is my first Criminal Minds fanfiction, so please be gentle, I'm still trying my hand at it ;-) This isn't a romance per se, but rather my attempt at showing the evolution of Hotch and Prentiss's relationship/friendship in a few very short vignettes. I've always thought that they could be good for each other, and this story kind of elaborates on that, while attempting to keep the characters as close to canon as possible. Hotch is such a complex character that he's really not easy to write, but in this story I've tried to add a bit more light into his life. After everything that happened to him recently, I think he deserves some laughter, so there you go!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything… this is for entertainment only.

Rated K (for everyone)

Slight spoilers for episode 5x09 "100"

*****

**Laughing Matter**

_Wystan Hugh Auden once said: "Among those whom I like or admire, I can find no common denominator, but among those whom I love, I can: all of them make me laugh."_

All Hotch did was laugh at her comment.

Yet he'd watched, strangely fascinated, as her laughing expression had transformed into one of complete befuddlement at the sound; wide dark eyes snapping in his direction, eyebrows shooting up towards her hairline, and her lips forming a silent 'o'. Looking at him as if he'd grown a second head.

Oh she hid her surprise quickly enough, but not quickly enough for Hotch not to notice. And if he was honest with himself, it made him a bit self-conscious, if not slightly indignant. He knew he wasn't the most expressive of men, but he _did _have a sense of humor. He just believed that while at work, their jobs and the victims past and future deserved his respect, and his undivided attention. For some reason that uncharacteristic display of emotion had escaped him without him being able to stop it. So fighting the tiny feeling of wounded pride and slight remorse in his chest, he quickly schooled his expression into something more neutral, cleared his throat, and bellowed everybody back to work.

He was pretty sure Prentiss hadn't meant for him to hear her next whispered comment, but he did.

"I did not know that man could laugh!"

It was Reid who replied. "He wasn't always that serious, you know."

This seemed to sober Prentiss a bit, and her voice had lost its teasing tinge when she replied. "We should try and make him laugh more. I think he could use it."

Hotch walked away into his office without looking back at his team, despite the feel of Prentiss's gaze on his back.

*******

The second time, Prentiss had once again been the one to make him laugh, but this time he didn't have an audience. Working on a report, he'd happened to glance up from his office window and looked into the familiar scene of his team sitting in the bullpen, alternatively working and joking. It had been one of those rare days of paperwork instead of consults and fieldwork, and so everyone was relaxed and showing various degrees of relief at "_almost_ having the day off", as Garcia had said. He'd stood and walked to the window, quietly observing his team, and if he was honest with himself, slightly envying the easy affection and respect evident in their interactions. Oh he knew that they all cared about and respected him, but none of them were as easy-going with him as with the others. And he had no one else to blame for that but himself. Sometimes it really was lonely at the top.

It was at that moment that it happened. He had been vaguely aware of Prentiss's nervous habit of biting the end of her pen and then pressing it against her face while she was reading. But this time, she probably had no idea that her pen was dripping, and that every time she hit her cheek with it, it left clear blue ink circles on her skin. Maybe it was because of his sudden and uncharacteristic desire to be part of their little bantering circle, or maybe it was because he was bored with his paperwork. But whatever the cause, he couldn't stop himself from laughing out loud, the sound coming out as something between a snort and chuckle. He knew that she would be mortified if she knew that he'd seen her like this, but he could at least do something to save part of her dignity. He grabbed the phone and tried to keep the smile out of his voice.

"Hotch, what do you need?" JJ answered.

"JJ, I think you need to take Prentiss to the lady's room."

The line went silent for a beat. "I beg your pardon?"

"Take a look in the bullpen. I think Prentiss needs graceful saving if she wants to live this down."

He knew the moment JJ saw what he was talking about. "Oh sh-," she chuckled, "thank you sir, I'll do what I can."

He went back to his window and smiled as Prentiss took JJ's call, quickly stiffened and then covered her cheek with her free hand. Even from the distance of his office, Hotch could see the curse on her lips. It wasn't long before she made a run for the restroom.

He smiled, shaking his head. He'd never thought clumsiness was particularly endearing in a woman, but Prentiss's was so closely entangled with self-confidence that the resulting mix was sometimes disconcerting, and always intriguing.

********

The third time, he had found himself behind the wheel of their SUV, driving Prentiss and Dave back to meet with the others at the airport after closing their case. It had been a gruesome and nerve-wracking one, but in the end everything had turned out rather well. They had solved the case, arrested the unsub and returned most of the victims safe and sound to their families. As Morgan often said, in their line of work it was as happy an ending as it got. And Hotch felt… lighter. Like he had accomplished something good. And he rarely felt that way nowadays.

So when Prentiss made a snappy yet witty remark at the radio as if the device actually personified the (admittedly clueless) host, he couldn't stop himself from laughing out loud. Maybe it was the shared feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment that permeated their car, or Dave's own chuckle coming from the back seat, or the irony of Prentiss's love for political radio shows (she swore it was only to criticize) despite her hatred of politics, he couldn't tell. But he had felt the bubble of laughter rise up in his chest and had had no desire to stop it from passing his lips.

He glanced at her then, curious to see her reaction, but she didn't look puzzled this time. Even though her eyes were hidden behind opaque sunglasses, she had such an expressive face that he could read her just as easily. Her eyebrows were slightly furrowed together, which meant at least a little surprise, but it was the light quirk of her lips that caught his attention. He could only interpret such as smile as… smugness.

This time he decided not to hide his reaction and smiled back, and after a moment she returned to her verbal assault on the radio as if she was actually part of the conversation.

********

The fourth time he had been home with Jack, trying to prepare and get his son in bed by following a routine that they had both sort of lost track of since… well, since he had Jack to himself. Hotch rarely had any troubles with the feeding-quietplaying-bathing-toothbrushing- bedtimestory-sleep routine, but that night Jack was having none of it, resisting with every ounce of energy he had left in his little body. She happened to call then, saying that he'd mistakenly grabbed one of the files she needed to finish her report and that she was coming over to pick it up.

A few futile attempts at calming Jack later and she was knocking on the door. She let out a small chuckle as Jack ran past her with his arms outstretched and making engine sounds.

Hotch shrugged as he handed her the file, just barely keeping his son from colliding against his legs as he walked towards her. "He's in an airplane phase."

She smiled as her hand reached for the file, her gaze following the little bundle of energy that was his son. "You know, he's becoming more like you every time I see him." Her tone was sarcastic but her dark eyes twinkled with humor.

And Hotch couldn't help himself. There, standing in his home with his energetic son and a beautiful woman he trusted with his life, he felt it. Being alive. Being human.

Being himself.

And so he laughed out loud. "Tall, dark, handsome and mysterious?"

He realized as the words left his mouth that he was actually flirting and he pressed his lips in a tight line, hoping he hadn't gone too far.

Her eyebrows rose in response, but she was still smiling, which reassured him that he hadn't crossed a line. She snorted. "I'll give you handsome but I was thinking more along the lines of obstinate and argumentative."

It was his turn to be surprised. Observing his reaction, she seemed to realize what she'd said and plastered her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. He wasn't sure if she was embarrassed about admitting that she found him handsome or because she'd just called her boss obstinate and argumentative to his face. It was probably a little of both. And so for the second time that night, he laughed out loud, albeit a little nervously.

"I can't believe I said that out loud! I'm sorry sir, that was out of line," she said, shifting from one foot to the other, uncomfortable.

Still chuckling, Hotch decided to put her out of her misery. "It's ok, Prentiss, I asked for it. I should be the one to apologize."

She made an apologetic face and shook her head, turning her attention to Jack as he came running by one more time. "Hey Agent Jack Hotchner, get over here!"

Hotch was impressed to see his son stop what he was doing and run to the woman he'd only met a few times before. He wasn't sure if it was the fact that the boy had recently lost his mom, or Prentiss's natural affinity with children, but whatever it was, Jack was ecstatic every time she addressed him. He watched as Prentiss crouched down to be at eye-level with Jack, her tone all business when she spoke.

"Now tell me Agent, have you been taking care of your dad like we discussed at our last meeting?"

Jack nodded with enthusiasm. "Yes ma'am!" He turned to him. "Right dad?"

Hotch smiled at his son. "You sure have."

Prentiss nodded. "Very good, Agent. But now I have another mission for you, and it's top secret. Come here," she leaned to whisper into his ear, her hand hiding her mouth from Hotch but deliberately looking at him as she spoke. He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head, curious as to what she was up to, but enjoying watching their interaction too much to interfere.

After a few seconds she pulled back. "Now, any questions Agent Hotchner?"

Jack shook his head vehemently.

Prentiss gave him a curt nod. "Very well, your mission starts in three, two, one…" she made a point of looking at her watch, "Now!"

And then Jack was gone and running towards his bedroom.

Hotch turned towards her just in time to see her satisfied smile. Looking past his shoulder, she shouted, "Good night Jack!"

Hotch chuckled when he heard his son's muffled reply coming from somewhere at the back of the house. "Good night Agent Prentiss!"

Hotch raised his eyebrows when she looked back at him, waiting for an explanation, but she merely smiled, winked and walked out the door with a light "See you tomorrow boss!"

And moments later he found his son in his PJs and curled up in bed, fast asleep.

*******

Tonight had started as nights so often did, with Hotch eager to get home to his son after a long, stressful case. This one had been particularly tough on Prentiss. He knew the members of his team didn't think so, but Hotch _did_ notice when something affected or distracted them, after all he wouldn't be a very good profiler if he didn't. So he had noticed how the usually high-spirited but always professional Prentiss had slowly withdrawn into herself a little bit more each time a new victim was found. He had seen her do that before, and he knew from experience that it generally happened when she became personally, emotionally involved. When she could relate some aspect of the case to her own life and experiences. It happened to all of them and it was always difficult to deal with, but he trusted that she would bounce back eventually, and there wasn't much he could do about it, anyway.

Unless…

With newfound resolve, he grabbed his jacket and turned off the light in his office before making his way into the bullpen. Everyone was already gone, except for Prentiss, who sat idly at her desk. Hotch approached her slowly but deliberately, observing how to any outside observer she would look like she was reading at her computer, but he could tell that she was actually staring into space, lost in thought.

"Prentiss."

She startled at the sound of his voice and looked up, a little guiltily if he read her correctly. He usually did.

She cleared her throat and started turning off her computer and rearranging her desk. "I know, I know, I'm leaving."

Hotch kept on observing her, noting how her hands shook lightly as she kept moving piles of folders, actually transforming her organized desk into chaos. She wasn't clearing her desk, he realized, she was stalling until he left. He knew he was right when she let out a sigh and briefly looked up at him. "Dammit Hotch, stop staring, it's making me nervous."

Under different circumstances he would have smiled at her frankness. "Why?"

She let out a rueful chuckle. "Because it's what you do when you're psychoanalyzing suspects."

"I'm not psychoanalyzing you."

"As if you could help it anymore than I could."

He did smile at that. "Are you afraid I'm going to find out something about you that you don't want others to know?" he asked in all seriousness.

Her hands stopped fidgeting and she sat back in her chair with a defeated sigh, facing him for the first time. "You're not going to give up, are you?" When he didn't reply she rubbed her forehead, as if trying to assuage a headache. "Alright. I made this one personal, Hotch. I know we're not supposed to, but the longer it went on, the more I could feel myself being _pulled_ into it. I couldn't stop it."

Hotch nodded as he looked down at her, and made his decision. Her admission was good enough for him. Despite what she might think he had no interest in prying her mind for details that she didn't want to share willingly. He respected her privacy, just like she did his. So he changed the subject. "Jack's been asking about you."

Her expression told him she hadn't expected him to give up so quickly, but was relieved that he had. "Really?" She smiled. "How _is_ Jack?"

"Why don't you join us for dinner, and you can see for yourself."

Her surprised expression suddenly made him realize how that sounded, so he quickly amended himself. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make that sound…like it did." He pulled a chair from the neighboring desk and sat across from her, his elbows coming to rest on his thighs. "I don't know if I should be telling you this, but... ever since I was granted full custody of Jack, my life has changed in ways that I couldn't have predicted. Even though I care about the team and the work that we do, he's really the only thing that keeps me connected to the things that are good and innocent and happy in this world. And I think… I think tonight we both need that connection. So why don't you come over for dinner? Jack will be thrilled to see you, and if he can help you find that part of yourself that you think you've lost over the last few days, then I'm happy to share him with you tonight."

She quirked an eyebrow at this. "You're lending me your son?"

He should have known that even though he was the one trying to comfort her, she would be the one to lighten the mood. He snorted. "No, but I am inviting you to be a part of his life, and him to be a part of yours. If you'd like."

For a few long seconds there was a reversal in situation, and _she_ was staring at _him._ It really was a bit disconcerting to be at the receiving end of a profiler stare, especially a friendly one, but he forced himself not to look away. He was more than aware that what he was offering was huge, and _she _knew that he wouldn't have offered unless he trusted her utterly and completely, and not only with his life, but with his son's affection. It was a leap of faith; faith that they were both committed to their friendship in equal parts, and faith that the trust they had in each other would never waver. It was scary, but also exhilarating in a way.

After a moment she smiled. "I'd like that."

"Good. Let's go, I'm starving."

She rose from her chair and started gathering her stuff, but suddenly stopped in the middle of packing her laptop and leaned over her desk to really look at him, eyes narrowed suspiciously. There was a twinkle in her eye that made him catch his breath, only for a second.

"You only asked me over so I can get your son in bed on time, haven't you?"

And this time he didn't try to explain to himself why he did it, he just laughed.

*****

The end!

Hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading!


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